Persuasive
by Foxy'sGirl
Summary: Hiccup turns Astrid to his way of thinking, even after those thoughts sent her for an icy dip. Basically PWP.


**Ok, HTTYD2, on Eret's ship. Astrid says that Hiccup can be really **_**persuasive**_** in the most freaking suggestive way I've ever heard. This smut happened. **

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"It still seems like a really dumb idea," Astrid shakes her head and pushes the roughed out sketch away from her, accidently knocking one of Hiccup's writing sticks onto the floor.

"No, Astrid, it'll work," Hiccup leans down to pick it back up, tracing the heavy, confident lines outlining the stretched leather wings plotted out on the parchment. "I'm sure it'll work."

"If the gods meant for you to fly like that, you'd have Toothless's wings," she grimaces and clamps a too tight hand on his shoulder, like she can forcibly keep him in the chair.

"Well, I'm not going to flap or anything, it's more of a glide."

"If the gods meant for you to glide—"

"I already made it though, do you want to see?" He shrugs off of her hand, leaving her gripping thin air, and pulls the leather prototype off of the nearby work table covered in thick forged leather needles and scraps of thick sturdy string. "It laces around below my knees and up to my shoulders," he starts pulling the complicated contraption over his head and tightening strange buckles across his chest. "And—ugh, too tight—then it connects…it's pretty simple really…" he babbles, muttering under his breath and spinning in a slow circle chasing after a loose strap.

"Hiccup," she steps forward and stops him with a hand on his arm, turning him to face away from her and fiddling with the strap that's sagging across his leather covered back. "Design flaw number one, you can't put it on yourself."

"I thought number one would be that you think I'm going to fall to my death."

"That's number zero."

"Right," He laughs, coughing as she tightens the strap a little too far and thumping his back. "It fits pretty well though," he rolls his shoulders and tries to get comfortable, stretching his arms out to the side and demonstrating the flaps of leather stretched between arms and legs. "What do you think?"

The leather is plain and covered in shallow scorch marks across his chest, and she steps up to drag her finger along one of the burns, testing for its stability as if she'd know either way. She's half hoping that it falls apart at the touch and he has to ditch this entire bird-brained plan.

Literally bird brained, given how ready he is to splat.

"I think it's a really stupid idea," she repeats, tugging and stretching on the impromptu wings, trying valiantly to rip the stitches. Because if she can rip them, surely they can't hold him in the air while he attempts to _fly_.

He really has a death wish, doesn't he?

"But why won't it work? Fishlegs helped me with the math—"

"Fishlegs knew about this?" She quirks an eyebrow and crosses her arms. "I'm going to kill him."

"And that reaction is why we didn't tell you," he pats all the buckles again, trying to make sure he's adequately contained. "But I've got bigger wings per body weight than terrors and gronckles. And I'm not taking off, I'm just gliding—"

"And what happens if it doesn't work and you don't glide?"

"Let's go try it out," he grins, bright eyed and devious. "Come on, the storm isn't supposed to be here until later, and we can slip out while everyone else is hunkering down…" he uses that face, that deliciously almost romantic, adventurous face, stepping too close and half-smiling.

"What kind of offer is that? If we're going to slip out somewhere…" She bites her lip and rubs her nose against his. His eyes widen like he knows he has her.

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An hour later, they're in a cave on some small outcropping of rock, suit wind torn and useless while Astrid tries to rub life back into her hands, entirely numb from an impromptu dunk into the frigid, stormy ocean during a haphazard rescue attempt. Hiccup flutters around the back of the cave, apologizing profusely and collecting piles of driftwood, less wet than Astrid but still dripping slush from the ends of his hair.

The first snow of the season just _had_ to hit tonight.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, not ready yet—prototype, not ready yet—" he yells in her general direction, dropping an armful of wood in the most sheltered corner of the cave and beckoning Stormfly to light it. "Too much wind, I don't think it works with this much wind," he keeps babbling to himself, stacking more driftwood onto the slightly green flames.

"I s-s-said that," she grits it out through embarrassing chattering teeth and crosses her arms, shuffling closer to the fire and sitting on a flat rock in the soft dirt of the cave floor. "You nev-ver listen to me."

"I know," he mutters, resting his hands on her shoulders and trying to scoot her closer to the fire. She shrugs him off, leaning forward and clamping her chattering teeth together. "Oh gods, you're bleeding—"

"I'm bleeding?" More angry than hurt, given that her whole body is numb, she sits up and looks down at herself, pausing at the twin sets of tears in her shirt, left behind by Stormfly's claws when the Nadder scooped her from the surf. The wounds underneath are more scratches than anything and she rolls her eyes, clamping her arms more tightly around her trembling torso and sighing relieved when the dragons hunker down in the mouth of the cave, blocking some of the residual wind. "I'm fine."

"Stormfly must have—"

"It's not _her_ fault," Astrid accuses, staring into the fire as Hiccup piles the rest of the wood from the back of the cave, obviously washed in by an exceptionally high tide.

"No, it's not," he stacks the logs towards the mouth of the cave, shielding the flame from the breeze still leaking in and walking around behind her to probe at the scratches with nearly scalding fingers against her numb skin.

"I said I'm fine."

"You should really let me look—"

"Hiccup." She snaps, scooting closer to the fire and holding her hands towards the flame for a moment, thawing them enough to unfasten her pauldrons and soaked hood. Hiccup snatches the hood before it hits the ground and lays it across Toothless's shoulders, whispering to the Night Fury and patting him on the head as the fur starts to steam slightly. He rummages in his pack for a moment and retrieves a seal skin, draping it over Astrid's shoulders and sitting down on the rock next to her.

"You were right." He offers, starting to fiddle with the leather buckles across his chest and loosening the suit. Astrid snorts and pulls the seal skin tighter around her shoulders with one hand while yanking her soaked boots off with the other, setting them close to the fire to dry. Her wrinkly toes twitch when she puts them too close to the fire, and she tugs them back slightly, heels digging into the dirt. "You were absolutely right. And thank you for catching my dumb, stubborn ass." He offers and she nods, staring pointedly at the pile of logs. "A bigger fire? We don't have much wood left—"

"Did you go swimming? Because I don't remember you going swimming."

"Bigger fire it is, Milady," he stands up and sets a larger log in the middle of the coals. "Are you warming up?" She shrugs and tugs the skin tighter, wiggling her toes in the warming air and cringing at the squelch of her still soaked skirt under her seat. "And I think I know what's wrong with the design, I need a rudder, I need something to keep me flat—"

"Are you seriously thinking about using that suit again?" She snaps, staring at the halfway removed suit. "Because that almost got both of us killed."

"It just needs a few tweaks—"

"I can't believe you." She stands and unbuckles the water laden skirt, letting it drop into the dirt and sitting down on the far side of the fire, dirty but warmer. She crosses her feet underneath her and sighs as the warmth starts to sink into her seat, the pit of her stomach.

"I swear it'll work with a rudder, or a fin or—" he stands and picks up her skirt, walking it over to dry on Toothless next to her hood and taps his finger on his chin. "I know I can—it'll be fine if I just—"

"You aren't going to persuade me that jumping off of your dragon and flying yourself is a good idea."

"How are the feet doing?" He reaches for her and she folds her feet more tightly under her legs.

"Less blue. I'm fine."

"You should really let me look at your shoulders."

"I'm fine."

"Do you mind if I put what's left of the suit in Stormfly's saddle bags?" He stands and starts squirming out of the half-torn leather, seemingly unfazed by her peeved shrug. "Thank you, you have a bit more room than I do…" He hums to himself as he folds the suit and stuffs it into the pouch, pausing to scratch Stormfly's beak and mutter something to her in a quiet appreciative tone. Astrid bristles at the obvious attempt to placate her and looks back into the fire, shivering sensation making its way back up her legs.

He ambles back over to the fire a moment later, sitting back on the rock and leaning forward to comb the ice chunks out of his hair in the bubble of warm air. "Because if your feet aren't warming up, I could rub some feeling back into them…" he offers with a hopeful grin and Astrid avoids eye contact, still peeved. "Ok then, it's a 'not now' from Astrid, but I'm still liking the idea, _if_ you don't mind."

He doesn't wait for an answer, tugging off his own boot and reaching down to rub the arch of his foot appreciatively. He groans at that initial contact and Astrid shifts again, scowling at the flames and scooting closer to the nearby wall of the cave. "What? It feels good…ok, are you seriously not going to let me look at your shoulders?"

"I thought you were busy rubbing your foot."

"And you_ can_ hear me, it's a miracle," he deadpans, standing and tugging at the edge of the seal skin. She snugs it down against her shoulder, flinching when it glances across the shallow scrapes. She's lucky she hasn't polished Stormfly's claws lately, definitely, but she's _fine_. "Just let me look—"

"I want you do be done with the suit idea," she shakes her head and glances at him.

"It's just a prototype," he insists, "I shouldn't have taken it out in a storm, but I know it'll work." She huffs, crossing her arms more tightly and shifting under drying clothes. She's thawed enough to be acutely aware of the fact her armor is across the cave and her leggings are too thin against the pebbles speckling the floor of the cave. "You just have to trust me. How many other inventions have you thought were crazy until they worked?"

"Most of those didn't involve you falling out of the sky."

"_Most_ of them," he stands and shuffles to sit down beside her, one leg on either side of her hips as he scoots closer to her back, tugging the seal skin from her shoulders with a few earnest tugs and reaching around her to lay it across her lap. "Some of those ideas did involve…" he trails off, probing the skin around barely bleeding scratches and hissing lightly. "This one looks like it might need stitches, it's pretty deep."

"It doesn't hurt—ouch," she flinches, "it hurts when you poke it, obviously, but it doesn't hurt that bad."

"I don't know, it—here," there's a tearing sound and she succumbs to peeking as he rips a strip of fabric from the end of his sleeve, sliding it through the tear in her shirt to pad the wound. "That should help until we get back, but you should get it looked at."

"I'll get it looked at if you promise to give up on the suit."

"Astrid," he sighs, resting his forehead on the nape of her neck, and she can't quite remember inviting him to get so close. Normally she wouldn't mind, but she's supposed to be mad, and now all she can think about is the warmth radiating from his skinny chest to her still chilled back. And no matter how much she tried to brush him off, he's here tending to her wounds and toughing the side of her waist—

"Hey," she catches his hand and bats it away from her, "I'm still mad at you."

"I won't use the suit again—"

"Thank you."

"—In a storm," he finishes the sentence, planting his hands firmly on either side of her waist and tugging her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her completely. "I'll try it the day after it snows, five feet above a bank of powder." She huffs and shrugs, not quite stubborn enough in the moment to yank away and he laughs against the nape of her neck, breath warm and lulling. And he _did_ thank Stormfly, even if she didn't want to notice at the time. "I'll just go cliff diving with the rest of you and see if I can fly further, alright? I'll start slower."

"Can't—can't you just be happy flying _with_ a dragon? Do you have to do it solo too?" She glances back over her shoulder and gets caught in his pensive expression.

"But that's why I have to do it, Astrid. I want to fly _with_ Toothless, instead of _on_ him."

Astrid looks down at his metal foot, glinting and probably close enough to the fire to be getting genuinely hot beyond Hiccup's notice. Toothless's red tailfin nearly glows in stark contrast to the snow starting to pick up outside and she sags back against Hiccup a bit with a reluctant nod.

"And you'll practice above soft ground?" She asks quietly and Hiccup hugs her too tightly, tugging the seal fur around her waist.

"You're not mad?"

"You know, you never came through on that offer for a foot rub," she doesn't concede quite yet, scooting away from him enough to turn around, back facing the fire as she places her feet on his thigh.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to say no to the foot rub," he grins and picks up one of her slightly grimy feet, flexing her toes back towards her shin and digging his thumbs into the tense arch. She moans at the touch and relaxes slightly, leaning back on her hands and enjoying the campfire's heat against her still damp back.

"Hey, no need to be cocky about it." She hums happily as his fingers work against the spread of her toes, smoothing cold aches into nothing and he sets the foot down on the ground between his legs before picking up the other one and giving it the same tender treatment. Astrid looks down at her tended to toes, and can't help but admire the tighter pants that seem to go with wearing the disastrous suit. "And do you think this outfit is going to be permanent?"

"What about my outfit?" He laughs, rolling her ankle slightly and cupping her heel.

"It's nice," she lets her foot creep forward, nudging almost pointedly at the junction between his legs. His hands freeze against her foot and he looks up at her questioningly, glancing at the dragons in the mouth of the cave.

"Do you mean?" He grins and his hand slides up the back of her calf, making her shiver as he presses the cold, damp fabric of her leggings tighter to her skin.

"We did end up _alone_," her foot nudges against him again, toes curling against the brewing warmth.

"And I didn't say anything when I thought you were going to bite my head off, but you really should get out of your wet clothes."

"Yeah?" She asks jokingly, yelping when he yanks her towards him by her foot and she falls back, hips between his knees and hair almost too close to the flames. "Careful—"

"I'm watching," he assures her as she pulls her now salty, filthy braid away from the fire and down over her shoulder. "I just don't want you getting frostbite," he reaches around the curve of her ass and grips the waist of her leggings, tugging them down along with her underwear and yanking them over her feet.

"So considerate of you," she tries to sit and he holds her back for a moment, retrieving the seal skin and spreading it between them before offering her a hand and tugging her close. She wraps her legs around his waist and he crosses his legs underneath her, apologizing when his prosthetic pokes her in the cheek. "Oh wow, you're warm," she hugs him happily with her legs and he rubs her thighs for a moment as if to warm them with friction before pausing and sliding his hands upward to rest in the crease of her hips.

"You're not too cold, are you?" He pulls her closer against him, and she wishes she'd had the forethought to deal with his pants before perching here, so that she could feel the hardness coming to life on the other side of suddenly too thick leather. She rocks her hips against him and he presses her chest against his with a tender hand against the small of her back.

"No, but if you wanted to warm me up a bit…" she leans in to kiss him and he laughs against her lips, sliding his hands down her back and around to the curls between her legs.

"You're all salty," he threads his fingers through the crunchy hair and she bites his lip to make it clear that she doesn't think it's funny.

"You knocked me into the ocean, what do you expect?"

"It feels interesting," he laughs against her cheek, kissing across the salty skin to her ear and sucking the lobe into his mouth.

"Are you going to tease me, or are you going to do something?" She digs her fingernails into his shoulders, impatient but relieved when he slides his hand down, fingers toying gently with her most sensitive spot. "_There_ you go," she sighs and leans her forehead against his shoulder, moaning when he starts to rub in earnest, kissing the side of her neck.

"Your hair smells like seaweed," he comments, slipping a long finger inside of her and curling it in a way that makes her buck forward against the straining bulge in his pants.

"How many times do I have to remind you—ah," she jumps as he presses that spot just right, toes curling against her shins, "ocean. I fell into the ocean."

"I think this is ruining fish for me," he works another finger into her and starts pumping them slowly, thumb still focused on the outside of her as he kisses her neck, nuzzling against salt-crusted hair. "I'm going to get hard every time I walk past the docks."

"You're going to—mmm—scare the dragons," she starts rocking against his hand and reaches down between them, half-heartedly clawing at the ties to his pants.

"You're giving me that much credit?" She can feel the slow slope of his smile against the shell of her ear and moans, wiggling out of his grip to lay back on the skin and stare pointedly at his pants.

"Get over here," she rushes him, yanking on his pants as soon as they're in reach and shoving them down, laughing when his erection springs up to smack against his stomach.

"Careful," but the admonishment is anything but stern as he leans over her, groaning into her ear when her hand wraps around him, lining him up. He pushes in and she wraps her legs around his hips, holding him tight inside of her with a too loud moan. "Shh, dragons," he mutters against her ear and she nods in understanding, biting down on his shoulder through slightly damp, salty wool.

He pulls out almost too far and slides back in, pressing his face into her hair and grunting and she squeezes him more tightly, hooking her ankles behind his back and sliding her hands under his shirt to grip at his ribs. He starts to find his rhythm, a little too urgent, almost hard enough but almost too hard when he starts to nudge her towards the fire.

"Babe, coals," she reminds him, stopping his hips with tightly locked ankles and he swears under his breath, grabbing one of her thighs as leverage to spin them halfway, away from the fire pit. Her knee ends up pressed between their chests somehow and everything gets tighter, impossibly more immediate. Hiccup locks eyes with her and she nods, hands fisting in the skin on either side of her as he starts thrusting at the new, closer angle, brushing against all those deep, sensitive nerve endings.

Her back arches off of the fur and he hooks her ankle over his shoulder, leaning closer and kissing the tip of her chin, the corner of her jaw. She bites her lip to keep from moaning, sliding her own hand between them to rub at herself, chasing his suddenly erratic thrusts towards the point of pleasure.

He gets there first, groaning between his teeth as he grips her hip almost too hard, tugging her against him and spilling inside of her. His face, ecstatic and unwound, inches from hers seems to be enough and her hand clamps down between them, pressing since it's too difficult to rub, and dragging her the rest of the way over the edge.

"Gods," he groans, pulling out and flopping down next to her on the skin, hair stuck to his forehead in chunks.

"At least I'm warm now," she laughs, rolling to face him and resting her head on his twitching bicep. "And wasn't that a better reason to sneak away?" She doesn't glance at the snow falling outside, because at this point it's victory, and they aren't _stuck_ equally by both ideas.

"I don't know, I got you on my team about the suit," he grins and tucks her closer to him, wrapping his leg over hers. "And I'll start practicing over soft ground, I promise."

"I still don't _love_ the idea."

"I'll be careful," he insists against her temple, reaching between them to tuck himself back into his pants. "And as much as I'm enjoying this, you should probably get dressed." He gives her ass one last little squeeze before patting it and sitting up halfway. "We do still need to figure a way home."

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**Is it bad that I had more fun with the banter than the smut? Because I did somehow, it was unbelievably fun to write mostly grown-up Hiccstrid banter. **


End file.
